


Won't You Stay?

by deadeyedwritergirl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Divorce, Established Relationship, M/M, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 10:38:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadeyedwritergirl/pseuds/deadeyedwritergirl
Summary: The one where Zayn files for divorce.





	Won't You Stay?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! 
> 
> Thank you for checking my ramblings out :) 
> 
> I don't know much about divorce proceedings or the law and how it all works. This was just an idea and a flight of fancy and in no way depicts real life. 
> 
> The usual disclaimers apply. Don't know them and most definitely don't own them. This is a work of pure fiction for your entertainment.
> 
> Enjoy!

“My client’s willing to give your client the farm in Pennsylvania, he can have his pick of the cars and other miscellaneous property. My client, however, would like to retain the house in Surrey. It only makes sense seeing as his business is based here,” Louis said, sliding the agreement he’d drawn up across the table.

Zayn’s solicitor, Harry something-or-the-other stopped the document just before it slid off the fancy table and scanned through it.

Liam hadn’t taken his eyes off his husband since he’d entered the conference room at Tomlinson & Associates. In fact, he’d missed much of what had been said between their solicitors because he’d spent the best part of the time trying to catch Zayn’s eye, trying to gauge his feelings on the proceedings, but his husband’s eyes never wandered to him. He kept his gaze down and occasionally looked up at his solicitor when he spoke. But nothing on his face or even in his posture betrayed his feelings.

He was as stoic as the day he had caught Liam off-guard by handing him divorce papers the night of their third wedding anniversary when Liam had come home late having been so caught up in work, he’d completely lost track of time and the date.

The memory coiled bitterly in his stomach and he had to bite his lip to keep from groaning out loud.

“No,” Zayn’s solicitor said, sliding the papers back to Louis, “My client will not sign that agreement.”

Liam looked to his solicitor to see what his next move would be because they’d both known going into this meeting that Zayn would never agree to the terms.

“That’s the best we can offer you,” Louis said, crossing his arms on the table. His eyes narrowed as he looked between Zayn and his solicitor.

“I think you’ll find, Mr. Styles, that that agreement is more than generous. We’re offering you half of my client’s multi-million estate. I’d say that’s more than fair, too much in my opinion, considering your client came into the union with barely anything at all.”

Liam cringed at his solicitor’s last remark, he’d known they would have to fight dirty, he’d come in ready for it. But even he felt the effects of that snipe. Zayn was not a gold-digger. Yes, he hadn't had much going into his relationship with Liam but he'd never exploited the fact of Liam's wealth either. 

It was an unfair remark and one he knew might get under Zayn's skin.

His eyes shot up to his husband, sat across from him at the table. His stoic composure had finally broken and his eyes narrowed menacingly at Liam’s solicitor.

Of course, an attack on his pride would be the thing to _finally _get a reaction out of him. Not the many attempts Liam had made to win him back with gifts, or even the many phones calls begging him to come home had moved him. But a small remark that dented his pride did.

It should have made Liam feel satisfied in some twisted way to have made his husband feel even an ounce of the hurt he’d been feeling but all it did was remind him how little he mattered to Zayn.

“What my client had or did not have coming into this union has no bearing here. As you are aware there is no pre-nuptial agreement, therefore, my client is entitled to that _generous _offer, Mr. Tomlinson. Nevertheless, he doesn’t want it. Mr. Payne can keep his money and property. All my client wants are his paintings, the ones currently in your client’s possession.”

And finally, they got to the sticking point. Liam had known that Zayn would never agree to the proposed division of their estate because he’d not offered the one thing that was most important to him in the list: his artwork.

Zayn was an artist, a damn good one at that. Louis wasn’t lying when he’d said that he hadn’t had much going into their marriage. He’d been working as a cater-waiter at the opening of a show in a gallery in London when they met.

Of course, Liam had been taken with him from the first glance. And had been irrevocably in love with him by the time he found out that Zayn was as talented an artist as all those artists whose work had adorned the gallery walls the night they’d met.

He wasn’t well-known and his work wasn’t worth much - yet, but Liam knew how important it was to him.

It had taken up most of his time during their marriage. Liam worked a lot, he was the head of a multimedia company and that meant he worked a lot and barely had time off. But when he did get some time, he’d relished spending it with his husband, when he wasn’t locked away in his studio working on this painting or off tagging that wall – Banksy-style.

Like he’d said before, his art was _the _most important thing to him and Liam tried not to feel too bitter about it.

Liam scowled in the direction of his husband, who still hadn’t looked him in the eye, but was visibly agitated now at the mention of his art.

“My client is not offering those paintings as part of the settlement,” Louis said with an air of finality that left no room for discussion.

His solicitor looked at him then, as if to confirm that that was still Liam’s stance.

He gave a slight nod, and then looked across the table to his husband who was finally looking at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears and a probably irrational irritation flared up inside of him.

They’d been going through the divorce process for weeks and not once had he seen Zayn cry or even upset over the breaking down of their marriage, but now, here he was tearing up over some fucking paintings!

Liam almost wanted to go home and burn the damn things.

“I think you’re forgetting one important fact here, Mr. Tomlinson,”

Louis inclined his head as if to humour Zayn’s solicitor, waiting for him to continue.

“Those paintings are my client’s intellectual property. He has every right to them!”

The solicitor was losing his cool now, and Liam could tell from his slightly raised voice and the quickening of usually lazy drawl that he was gearing up for a fight.

Louis only smiled coolly, sitting back in his chair, tapping his pen on the legal pad in front of him.

“As you said before, Mr. Styles, there’s no prenup. What belongs to your client, belongs to my client, in equal proportion.”

“Well, without those paintings there is no settlement and there is no divorce,” Mr. Styles said, a last-ditch attempt to scare Liam into handing over the paintings.

What he didn’t know was that what he said? The thing about no divorce, it didn’t scare him even a little bit.

“You forget, my client wasn’t the one who filed for divorce.”

The statement hung in the air, sucking up every last bit of oxygen to the point where Liam could no longer breathe.

“But of course, if we cannot come to an agreement with regards to custody of said paintings, that leaves us with only one option. They’ll have to be auctioned off and the proceeds split between our clients fifty-fifty,” Louis shrugged, nonchalantly.

His solicitor was ruthless, the best money could buy and that’s why Liam had hired him but now he sort of wished he would tone it down a little. Regardless of what it seemed, the last thing Liam wanted was to hurt Zayn.

He’d never wanted that.

He was looking guiltily down at his hands on his lap when the sharp sound of a fist cracking down on the wooden table sounded, causing him to look up in the direction of his husband.

He was looking right at Liam, his eyes ablaze with a fury Liam had never seen before in him. A chill rolled down his spine and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the deathly look in Zayn’s eyes, or the fact that he’d put it there.

“Why are you doing this, Li, huh?” he asked, his voice low and seething, “You don’t give a fuck about them paintings, about my work. So why are you doing this?”

That was the most Zayn had said to him throughout the process of trying to iron out their settlement. In fact, that little outburst just then was the first and only real reaction he’d had to tearing up Liam’s heart, right along with their marriage and it wasn’t even about any of that. No, it was over his artwork.

A dry chuckle escaped Liam’s lips before he could think better of it. But he’d rather that, than the other reaction that he might have had otherwise. As the saying went, he laughed to keep from what he really wanted to do, which was to cry or throw a fit because his husband cared more for some paintings he did than their marriage.

“Like I said,” Louis said, finally jumping into the tension sizzling between them, “my client is not giving up the paintings.”

Zayn stared directly into Liam’s eyes, scorching him with the anger blazing in them, but Liam didn’t budge. He held his ground and stared right back at his husband, challenging him.

“Fuck you,” Zayn finally said, before storming out of the room, banging the glass door to the conference room behind him.

“Well then, Mr. Styles, I guess we’ll see you next time to continue our negotiations?” he said, his grin one of a man who had achieved his goal.

Zayn’s solicitor only glanced at them in disdain, before gathering his things and walking out after Zayn.

It was just the two of them in the room when Louis spoke up, “Well, I’d say that’s a job well done? Mission accomplished and all that.”

Liam knew he’d been the one to put his solicitor up to it but he’d almost wanted to sock him himself throughout the meeting.

“You didn’t have to be so harsh,” Liam remarked. Annoyed at how satisfied his solicitor was with the conclusion of the meeting.

“Might I remind you that this is what _you _wanted?” he replied indignantly.

“Not like this! Did you see his face?” Liam asked, running a frenzied hand through his hair. “He hates me.”

“Liam,” Louis said, softer and kinder now, “at least he didn’t sign the papers.”

And sure, that had been the goal going in, to drag this out, but after the look Zayn had given him, Liam wasn’t sure it was worth it anymore.

~*~

Liam was in the kitchen, getting some water after he’d finished his morning workout when the doorbell rang.

He briefly considered ignoring it and pretending he wasn’t home. He had taken that Saturday off, an occurrence that was so rare that he could count on one hand how many Saturdays he took off each year, one of which fell between Christmas and New Years because Zayn and begged him to.

The bell rang again. Deciding against ignoring it, he strode towards the door, not bothering to check who it was before pulling it open.

He was surprised when he was met with soft, black curls, and a familiar leather jacket.

“Zayn?” he sounded surprised, even to his own ears.

“Can I come in?” he asked, hazel eyes hesitant but imploring.

The request was odd to him because not long ago this was _their _home and Zayn could come and go as he pleased. He still hadn’t gotten it in his head that it was different now.

He stepped aside, making room for him to come into the house.

Zayn, being familiar with the house walked in and headed straight for the living room.

Liam was a few steps behind him and when he entered the room he found Zayn staring at the small side table where he’d left his ring and keys the night he’d handed Liam the divorce papers.

The items were still there, right where he’d left them in front of their framed wedding photo, untouched.

Liam hadn’t found it in him to move them, or let anyone else do so. Maybe it was to remind himself what he’d lost, or maybe it was stupid hope that he could get it back. He couldn’t be sure though because it all hurt the same these days.

He cleared his throat to get Zayn’s attention. The dark-haired man took a moment more staring at the items, before spinning around on Liam, his eyes tight and angry now.

“What are you playing at?” he asked Liam, stalking closer to him.

“I’m sorry?” Liam asked confused and taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor.

“What do you want for the paintings, Liam?” he asked lowly. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything, Zayn” he replied, crossing his arms over his sweaty chest, “we’re simply negotiating a settlement. That’s the nature of divorce proceedings, isn’t it?” he challenged.

He eyed Zayn and saw his fist clench before he turned to the side table and with one swift and angry motion, swiped the frame ring and keys to the floor. The delicate crystal frame shattering to pieces as it hit the hardwood floor.

“Fucking bullshit! You don’t give a fuck about them. They’re not worth anything to you, so why won’t you let me have them? You can keep your money and the farm and the fucking cars, just let me have what’s mine and we can be done with each other, for good!”

Liam’s intention had been to stay calm and level-headed and not get swept up in Zayn’s emotion. That’s the way they had worked together. Zayn was the emotional, idealistic dreamer and artist and Liam was the calm one, the logical, responsible one who never lost his cool. They were like fire and ice, they shouldn’t have worked as a couple but they did, or at least that’s what he had thought up until the love of his life had served him divorce papers.

But the combination of the shattered wedding photo lying broken on the floor and the words _‘done with each other’ _dropped a penny and brought him face to face with the reality he’d been using solicitors and bullshit negotiations to avoid: he was losing him. He was losing his husband and the love of his life.

He was done playing games now. He had to be honest if it was all he was going to get out of this.

“I don’t want to be done!” he said, matching Zayn’s raised voice. “I want my husband! I want my marriage!”

Zayn, who’d been looking away from him before, turned to him, his facial expression going from shocked to resigned and finally to sad.

He sighed, rubbing a hand tiredly over his eyes. All the fight seemed to leave his body as his shoulders sagged and he sank down into the arm of the couch.

“I wanted that too you know, Li,” he said quietly. “But I got tired, tired of going to bed alone, tired of missed birthdays and anniversaries and fucking tired of loving you with my whole heart only to get a weekend here and there to _actually_ be with my husband. That wasn’t a marriage, Li.”

Liam opened his mouth to argue but no words came out. Because yeah, he wasn’t home all that much but he thought he'd given Zayn everything he'd wanted.

He'd worked hard so his husband didn’t have to double as a cater-waiter to make ends meet while he pursued his passion. He’d wanted to give him the best life possible and he’d thought that’s what he’d been doing.

“Would you rather I had quit my job and sold everything so we could cuddle on a ratty couch in a one-bedroomed apartment?” he asked, genuinely perplexed at being punished for wanting to take care of Zayn while he found his place in the art world.

“I wouldn’t have cared, Liam,” Zayn said, looking defiantly right into Liam’s eyes, “because at least I would have had you there with me. That's all I wanted.”

Zayn's voice hitched at the admission.

Liam felt the frustration building like bricks in his chest. He was frustrated with what Zayn was telling him, frustrated with himself for not seeing the problem before it had come to this.

“Just let me have the paintings, Li. Please.”

“Why?” Liam asked, becoming irrationally jealous of a few paintings, “Why are they so important to you?”

Sure he knew they were his work, his intellectual property. But he kept a lot of the stuff he intended to sell and show at his studio in the city, the stuff he kept at home he’d always referred to as his personal collection, works he never intended to sell. So Liam couldn’t figure out why a few doodles were enough to stymie their divorce, while his pleas for Zayn to stay weren’t.

Zayn had gone through a lot of emotions since he’d walked into the house, but for maybe the first time since everything had started falling apart, he looked hurt, genuinely gutted by Liam’s question.

“You haven’t looked at them, have you?”

Of course, he had! Sure he’d not been into the studio since Zayn had left, but he knew what was in there. The last painting he’d worked on was some kind of abstract piece, all fiery reds, and desolate black. It was one of the last things Zayn had interacted with in the house before he'd left.

When Liam didn’t answer him, Zayn must have taken that as confirmation of his assumption because he shook his head, disappointed and still hurt.

“Don’t know why I expected you to care now when you didn’t while we were together,” he chuckled humourlessly at his own naiveté.

It was Liam’s turn to feel hurt. He was Zayn’s number 1 supporter. He worked a lot so Zayn could create without having to worry about paying bills. Of course, he cared. He just didn’t always have the time to show it after they got married.

And what’s more, this whole battle? It wasn’t about the paintings for him. It had never been about the paintings. He’d just wanted to delay the divorce long enough for Zayn to realise that it was a mistake to end it.

But Zayn didn’t let him say any of that before he was brushing past him, right out the way he came.

~*~

It was another three days before Liam went into Zayn’s studio. He’d been prompted by a phone call from Louis.

He’d informed Liam that, Harry, Zayn’s solicitor had sent over a new settlement agreement. This one had no demands, no strings attached. Zayn wanted nothing from him. He’d simply signed the agreement, letting him keep everything, including the paintings.

All that was left was for Liam to sign on the dotted line.

It left him feeling empty and abandoned.

So he went down there to feel something. To feel close to Zayn somehow. When he entered the room, the air pungent with paint fumes and turpentine, his eye landed first on the red and black abstract painting that still sat on the easel where Zayn had left it.

It seemed angry and desperate all at once and made Liam uncomfortable because it felt like a reflection of how he felt and at the same time like a depiction of something he had completely missed during his marriage.

When it became too uncomfortable he tore his gaze away and looked around the room. There were many other pieces lying around. He walked over to a comic book style painting in the back of the studio.

It was a batman portrait, but something about it was seemed familiar. The stubbled chin, and the chocolate coloured eyes under the cowl, they were his. It was his likeness under the mask. His eyes ran over the painting and his eyes found the words _‘sometimes people need more’ _scrawled in Zayn’s own handwriting at the bottom. It was a quote from one of the movies. They had watched each one multiple times over the course of their relationship, most recently on one of the rare occasions Liam had made it home early just a few months ago.

They’d eaten way too many snacks and fallen asleep on the couch. And Liam had woken up to kisses, a happy husband and a full heart. It was one of his favourite memories.

It reminded him of their conversation a few days ago, when Zayn had admitted that all he had wanted was Liam and not the money or the cars. No matter how much he’d thought he was doing what was best for him, he seemed to have missed his mark entirely.

Behind it there was a whole stack of other paintings leaning against the wall.

Immediately behind the batman painting, was what at first glance seemed like a random landscape painting of the Thames from the view of someone on a boat. He’d almost missed it’s significance until he glanced at the date, written in the corner.

This one was from their last real day out as a couple.

Liam had begrudgingly taken the day off to be with Zayn and they’d ended up on one of those boat tours down the Thames. Liam remembered being annoyed because he’d taken time off only to have his husband with his nose stuck in his sketchpad for what felt like a lot of the tour. Even so, it was one of their happiest days because Zayn had been practically glowing with happiness.

He flipped through a few more of the canvases, each one depicting one of the rare times they’d spent together in some way. And he’d remembered each time resenting how after whatever activity or outing Zayn would retreat to that very room.

He hadn’t known that it was to do this, to immortalise the memories in the best way he knew how, by putting them into art.

He’d always thought he was choosing art over Liam, but really he was preserving the memories they’d made together.

Finally, at the back was a black and white painting of all their tattoos intermixed but with the words _‘everything I wanted but nothing I’ll ever need’ _standing out in bright red.

Liam instinctively traced his fingers along his shirt covered forearm where the words were inscribed.

Fuck.

He realised then just how much he’d fucked his relationship up. He had the words tattooed on him, a reminder not to get caught up in all the material things and yet he’d lost himself and his marriage to it.

~*~

Liam didn’t know if he’d find him there, but he'd driven out to the city, to the loft Zayn used as his work studio.

He rang the bell and waited.

When Zayn came to the door, he was dressed in joggers and an old t-shirt that Liam recognised as his own.

His breath caught a little on the emotion it brought up but he kept it together.

“Liam? What are you doing here?”

“I quit my job,” he said without premise.

“umm…” was all Zayn said but the lift of his brow asked all the questions his lips wouldn’t.

“I want to be a better husband to you. I realise that I went about it all wrong before, but if you’ll let me I’ll prove to you I can be better, give you all my time and all my love.”

Zayn just stood there dumbfounded as Liam rambled on and on, making all sorts of promises and declarations.

“And I also have these,” he said finally, holding up the final agreement. It had taken him the better part of a week to finally put his signature on the papers and when he did, he could have sworn the heartache was going to kill him.

That’s when he'd realised that he’d played the games with the solicitors to try and prolong his marriage and had lost. Now he had to take action and make an honest attempt at winning his love back.

And that’s why he was at Zayn’s loft, holding up the signed divorce papers.

“I signed them. You can have them and the paintings too if you want to finish with me. But…if any part of you wants to try, make a second go at this marriage then I’ll tear them up right here, right now.”

Zayn’s eyes seemed to roam all over Liam’s face, searching his eyes for something, uncertainty maybe?

But he wasn’t going to find anything like that because Liam had never been more certain of any decision he had made in his life, well except for marrying Zayn. That would always be the best and most certain thing he’d done in his life, no matter how it ended.

After a moment, Zayn held his hand out for the envelope and Liam’s heart sank to the ground as he handed them over.

Zayn pulled the papers out and inspected them, making sure that everything was signed and in order.

He nodded slightly, seemingly satisfied.

Liam cleared his throat, trying to push the lump building there down.

“Right…well uh… I guess I should uh…” he started but couldn’t finish the sentence. He was just turning to leave when Zayn caught his arm.

“Liam, wait.”

He turned back around to face his ex, blinking back the tears that burned the backs of his eyes.

“Do you wanna come in?” he asked tentatively, “To talk?”

He stood back from the door, making room for Liam to come in.

“I’m not making any promises, but a conversation can’t hurt.”

Liam didn’t know what to make of the offer, but it had sounded hopeful like maybe he’d done the right thing this time, and maybe it wasn’t too late for them.

He wasn’t going to turn him down, not if there was a chance to salvage what he’d thought he’d lost forever just a moment ago.

“uh, yeah,” he nodded, wiping a stray tear from before off his face, “Sounds good.”

He didn’t know if he was saying yes to a second chance or more heartbreak but he was certainly hoping for the former as he walked into the loft, Zayn shutting the door behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading to the end!!!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and I hope it made sense (I wrote it in one sitting, so please excuse any errors).
> 
> Please leave kudos, comments and share with friends if you liked it.
> 
> x


End file.
